


Aja Sanam Madhur Chandani Mein Hum

by phandomoftheowl, Sairandhri



Category: Hindu Mythology, Mahabharata - Vyasa, Star Plus Mahabharat
Genre: F/M, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomoftheowl/pseuds/phandomoftheowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairandhri/pseuds/Sairandhri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Karna, Madam’s in jail.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wherein Draupadi is a successful CEO who can't seem to stay out of jail; Karna is her hapless assistant who drives to pick her up at four in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aja Sanam Madhur Chandani Mein Hum

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name.

An incessant buzzing brings Karna out of his sleep. He slaps the bedside table in hopes of getting his work phone to _shut up_. It’s sad, really, that Karna can distinguish the vibrations of his work phone from his regular phone, but such is life. The buzzing stops for five blissful seconds before it resumes, irritating as ever. Some day, he is going to toss the phone into the sun. That day is not today, though. Groaning into his pillow, Karna picks up.

“‘Lo?”

“Karna, Madam’s in jail.” 

He grunts at caller on the other end. His boss being in jail is nothing novel. “I’m off the clock.”

“Karna, please. Drupad is having the bail money wired as we speak. You just have to pick her up.”

He debates just hanging up until he remembers that Draupadi’s siblings are out of town and can’t go to pick her up instead. “Fine.”

Reluctantly, Karna rolls out of bed to put on a shirt and proper pants, hissing at the cold. Duryodhan has a terrible habit of turning the air conditioning way too low, despite Karna’s many protests. 

_There is no need to have the house below twenty degrees_ , he thinks bitterly. 

Karna checks the time on his phone. It’s only little past 4 AM. He had been with his boss till 1 AM. What trouble could she have possibly gotten into in under three hours? Any sane person would know not to ask. Unfortunately, Karna has never been called sane in his life, and besides, it’s his job to know. He dreads the clean up he’s going to have to deal with this time around if the press finds out she was in jail. Again. 

He leaves a quick note for Duryodhan before heading out. 

When he gets to the police station, he finds Draupadi sprawled on someone’s desk, eyes closed and snoring without a care in the world. Karna snorts. 

_Typical._

Putting himself between her and the stares of the people in the small room, he reaches out to give her a shake. “Boss. _Boss_.” She jolts but doesn’t open her eyes, swats at him wildly. Karna shakes her more firmly, almost making her topple. That jerks her into waking. She glares at him once she finds her balance.

“Took you long enough,” she says, legs falling to either side of the desk. Karna averts his eyes and throws the jacket he luckily thought to bring at her, covering her legs. 

“Came as soon as I could, Boss,” he says. He hears her stand up and don the jacket. It’s Duryodhan’s so it’s a bit too big on her, and more modest than the dress she is wearing. 

“Don’t call me Boss,” she snaps. 

Karna rolls his eyes. It’s an old argument between them. “Yes, Boss.”

After completing the formalities of Draupadi’s bail, they go to Karna’s car, an old, faded blue Beetle from his days before consistent employment. He hasn’t had the heart to replace it with something better, despite Duryodhan nagging him about it for the last five years. As long as she runs, she stays, Karna replies primly to anyone who casts a wary glance at his car. 

Draupadi skips wary and goes straight to condescending. “I am _not_ getting in that.”

“It’s your only ride for the night, Boss.” Karna holds open the passenger side door for her. 

A sly smirk stretches across her face. “Oh, Karna, this isn’t even my _first_ ride of the night.”

Heat crawls up Karna’s face and he ignores the lewd remarks. Clears his throat and says, “Your father requests you be dropped off at his house.”

Draupadi snorts derisively. “Of course he does,” she says, and promptly ignores the passenger side door Karna is holding open. She goes to the drivers side of the car instead. “Keys, please,” she says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Sighing, he hands over the keys. “Don’t crash.”

“You have such faith in me, it warms the heart.”

They get into the car and Draupadi turns the key. The Beetle splutters. She turns the ignition again, the engine turns a few times. She glances sideways at Karna.

"Just-just try again, and don't jerk the key like that." Karna says, very obviously avoiding her glance.

"Oh, just do it for me."

Karna sighs and reaches across to start his car.

His hand slightly grazes her knee and he huffs, annoyed at the flush he _knows_ is spreading across his face. Why is she so opposed to longer skirts?

“Because it’s the middle of summer and I shouldn’t have to wear longer skirts if I don’t want to.”

It is only after she has said that that Karna realizes he spoke out loud. As if this night isn’t embarrassing enough already. “Yes, well.” He halts, knowing full well that if he says the wrong thing he might end up kicked out of his own car and stranded in the police station parking lot. He doesn’t fancy calling Duryodhan to come pick him up at this hour. So he says nothing, ignoring the way Draupadi shifts her leg to brush against his arm. “Your father,” he reminds her, not meeting her gaze.

“Right. Dad.” Draupadi clears her throat and looks straight ahead. 

“Mind if I get started now?” She says, as Karna finally manages to get the car to idle at a rumble.

=||=||=

“Go slow!” Karna hisses through his teeth, eyeing her foot as it floors the accelerator.

“I _am_ going slow,” she shouts. It’s a blatant lie. The speedometer shows them going at seventy kilometers per hour in a forty kilometers per hour zone. _Deep breaths_ , Karna reminds himself. He needs to calm down, not freak out. He looks out the window she made him roll all the way down, despite the old protesting mechanism, because “what’s the fun in driving unless you can feel the rush of wind on your face”, right? 

But Draupadi is enjoying herself _immensely_. “Doesn’t this thing have a radio?” she yells over the whooshing wind.

“The car doesn’t pick up FM,” he tells her. Smirking to himself, he makes a show of rummaging in the glove compartment, emerging with a cassette tape of Bollywood songs from the 40s and 50s. 

Draupadi’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding me. You don’t even have radio?”

Karna shrugs, puts the cassette in and presses play.

A smile spreads across her face as the song starts. Karna almost drops the cassette tape cover when she hums the first few notes of _Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh_. Draupadi always struck him as a Ganesh Hegde kind of woman. Hearing her hum the first few lines of an old song is surprising, to say the least. She has a sweet voice. He realizes he has never heard her sing before. He regains his composure and leans back into his seat.

“I didn’t know you liked Old Bollywood music,” he mumbles as the interlude begins.

“The things you don’t know could fill volumes,” she says, throwing a sideways glance at him.

That’s fair, he thinks, since she doesn’t know everything about him either. After all, it has been only half a year and they rarely ever talk much outside of work. 

He closes his eyes, letting her voice wash over him. 

They are going slower now, but still a bit too fast for Karna’s peace of mind. The song fades into the next one. Draupadi keeps singing along to them all. Karna’s fingers twitch in his lap, he wants to turn down the volume so he can listen to Draupadi. He doesn’t though, because then she would _know_ , she would give him that smug smile again. The one he secretly likes, not that he would ever admit it even under pain of death.

\----------

Draupadi smiles to herself when Karna starts singing under his breath. He looks very serene with his head thrown back, eyes fluttered shut. A calm Karna is a rare sight around her. Usually, he looks varying degrees of exasperated. Draupadi doesn’t really make it easy for him, especially on nights like these. The urge to reach out and touch a corner of the dark circles under his eyes makes her tighten her grip on the steering wheel.

Perhaps she could give him a day off?

But giving him a day off would mean not seeing him for a day. She wonders how long twenty-four hours would seem then.

Draupadi takes the next blind turn off the highway onto a dirt road. Karna senses the change of terrain under the wheels and opens his eyes.

“I thought we were going to Sir’s house?” He looks adorable when he frowns like that.

“I am the mistress of the night tonight,” she says as she backs into a grassless patch.

“But why are we here?” he asks, apprehension creeping into his voice.

“Because,” she says, “Because it’s a clear night. Those are scarce in the city.” She turns off the ignition and the car almost sighs. She pulls the handbrake and ties up her curly blue locks. Opening the door, she steps out without a glance at him. 

Draupadi leaves her stilettos in the car, not wanting to damage Karna’s car any more than it already is. She crawls onto the hood of the car, smiling to herself when she hears him squawk indignantly. She rather likes it when he gets annoyed at her. Too often he is distant and professional, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but she wouldn’t mind it if he forgot they were boss and employee sometimes. 

“You’ll dent the car!” he shrieks, scrambling out of the car to glare at her. 

“Are you calling me fat?” Draupadi quirks an eyebrow, trying her best to look offended.

That has the desired effect. He backpedals, hands flying around nervously. “No, of course -- I wouldn’t -- you aren’t fat. Not that it would matter because fat is just a term society has made up to make people feel inadequate about themselves, and I’m sure you would be even more beautiful if you were fat. But you’re still very…” He trails off, looking absolutely miserable. 

“Are you calling me beautiful?” she inquires in the same tone.

“N-no, I mean, yes -- I mean --” He takes a deep breath, all signs of fluster hidden under a calm professional mask. When he speaks again, his voice is completely steady. “Why are you climbing on my car?”

She rolls onto her back, appreciating the cool metal of the car. Her body feels too warm after hearing Karna call her beautiful. “Because it’s a nice place to look at stars. Come on.” She pats the space next to her. He eyes the roof dubiously. “Look at it this way. If the car collapses I’ll buy you a new one and you’ll be rid of this junk.”

“She isn’t junk.”

“If you say so.” Draupadi shrugs, scooting over to make room for him. The metal of the roof makes a soft popping sound as Karna climbs on. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Draupadi grins. “Are you apologizing to your car?” She didn’t think the man could get any more endearing. Clearly, she was wrong. 

“You don’t pay me enough for this, you know,” Karna says in a baleful tone instead of answering her. 

She says nothing to that. 

Without the orange glow of city lights the sky is a blanket of stars out here in the middle of nowhere. Karna’s arm is barely an inch away from hers. Unthinkingly, she brushes a finger against his wrist. He tenses immediately and Draupadi swallows her disappointment. What was she thinking? She knows how much he dislikes being touched by her. 

_And_ , she reminds herself, _you’re his boss. Initiating anything would be wrong_.

“ _Ha_ ,” she says abruptly, trying to distract herself from her own thoughts. 

“Pardon?”

“ _Lagta nahi hai dil yahaan_. Ha. Your turn.”

“Ha?” It is a testament to how well he knows her that instead of asking what she means he says, “I haven’t played antakshari in years.” There is a brief moment of silence while he thinks about what song to sing. “ _Hum premi prem karna jaane. Kahey na dil ki baat, sadaa chup rehna jaane. Hum premi prem karna jaane._ Na.”

Draupadi doesn’t have to wrack her brain for a song. “ _Na koi umang hai, na koi tarang hai. Meri zindagi hai kay, ik kati patang hai. Akash se giri mein ik baar kat ke aise. Duniya ne phir pucha, luta hai mujhko kaise._ Sa.”

__They go on like that until Draupadi loses track of time, letting Karna’s melodic voice lull her to sleep. When she opens her eyes again, she is alone on the car. The first rays of sunshine light up the horizon. Draupadi sits up, looks around for her assistant, only to find him sitting on the ground by the car._ _

__“What are you doing down there?” she asks him, stifling a yawn._ _

__He tilts his head back to look at her. The early morning sunlight hits him at just the right angle, making him glow. Breathing becomes a difficult task for a few moments._ _

__“You sprawl in your sleep,” he answers with a small amused smile._ _

__“Oh.” Her stomach rumbles just then, reminding her of how long it has been since she had any real food. “Food? I know a good udupi place nearby.”_ _

__“Sure.” Karna gets up and takes the driver's seat, giving her stern look. “Sir’s been calling for the last half hour. I told him you were resting.”_ _

____

\----------

Draupadi’s expression hardens, but she ignores his words.

“You won’t let me drive, will you?” she asks nonchalantly, just to say something.

“No. You take shotgun, and now we go home.”

“But I’m _hungry!_ ” she says with a pout, getting into the passenger side, “And home is too far away. I told you I know a place with the best idli sambhar ever. We’ll have breakfast there.”

Karna looks at her now. She had appeared so innocent while sleeping, the sharp mischievousness gone from her face, her hair spreading in a halo around her head. He had to get down from the car to resist the urge to trail a finger along the side of her face, to touch her cheekbone and see if it was as sharp as it looked. And also because Boss mistook him for a pillow, and draped her arm over him, almost. He had to get down and breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth to clear his head of her flowery scent.

Draupadi’s father has called twice in the last thirty minutes, wishing to know what was taking them so long. Both times Karna told him that she was tired and resting, and he would take her straight home as soon as she woke up. Now that she had woken up, she was hungry.

“You can have breakfast when you get home, it’ll hardly take half an hour,” he says, averting his eyes from her.

“Half an hour?! Nahi. Besides, I want to eat South Indian food and breakfast at home is toast and jam. So dry.” She scrunches her face in an expression of disapproval.

Karna sighs. “Fine. Where to, Boss?”

Draupadi smiles winningly.

=||=||=

“ _Here?_ ” Karna asks incredulously.

“Yes, here,” Draupadi declares as she opens the door and walks out barefoot.

He follows her warily towards what can be best described as a run down hut with a few tables scattered haphazardly. A lopsided sign tells him the dhaba is called _Indraprastha_. The hut seems so small, he doubts it could fit a gas and pots and… well, most things required for cooking. Karna does not really consider himself a snob by any means, but this was not quite what he expected when Draupadi said she had a place in mind. It didn’t seem her style. 

_The things you don’t know could fill volumes_. She was right, of course. He barely knows anything about her. 

A couple of people are already setting up for the day. A portly middle-aged woman is struggling with one of the benches, so Karna moves to help before the bench crushes her. 

The woman smiles at him. “Thank you, beta.”

Draupadi strolls up to them, absolutely at ease. She waves cheerily at the man emerging from behind the curtain at the hut, and pulls up a stool on her own, striking up conversation with the woman. Draupadi sits with one leg folded under her and the other swinging back and forth, like a child. It makes her look younger. He can imagine a teenage Draupadi coming here, sitting exactly like that in the short dresses she favors, ignoring her mother’s admonishments. 

A minute later, the man -- cook, presumably -- places two plates on the table in front of her. He smiles at her and pats her on the head. The man glances at Karna questioningly. Draupadi, much to his astonishment, signs something to the man. The man signs something in return and grins, nods once and heads back with the woman.

Karna shuffles around awkwardly, shoulders hunched, hands deep in his pockets, looking like a misfit.

“Come, sit.” Draupadi says while picking up a katori of coconut chutney that has just been kept in front of her. She scoops out a fingerful of the chutney and sticks it _in her mouth_ , making the most _obscene_ sound Karna has ever heard.

He stabs his idli rather than staring at Draupadi. “So, you know sign language?”

“Mmm.” She is still licking chutney off her finger. “Yeah, I learned in college.” She drops dollops of chutney into her bowl of idli sambhar until the sambhar is a dull greenish-yellow. “It’s really easy once you get the hang of it.” 

“Ah.” Karna stares at his own plate. There’s too much sambhar, he dislikes sambhar. But first, “Where can I wash my hands?” he asks her, expecting to be pointed to a door with a stick-man.

“Here, take this jug outside,” Draupadi says, pushing the dented steel jug across the table towards him.

He looks at it. “But… isn’t this supposed to be drinking water?”

“Arre baba, drinking water can be washing water. Now go.”

The water is surprisingly cold. He yelps and washes his hands as quickly as possible, ignoring Draupadi’s sniggers. 

“Your scowl is cute,” she says when he sits back down. 

“I’m not scowling,” he says, and his scowl deepens.

“Yes, you are. You have these frown lines on your forehead that -- see! You have them right now. Like a grumpy old man.”

“I am not old.” Karna angrily shoves a piece of idli in his mouth and nearly spits it back out. God, the sambhar is disgustingly sour. 

Draupadi giggles, and chokes on her idli. “You look like you swallowed a rat.”

“How would you know what a rat tastes like?”

“I know the taste of a lot of things,” She winks at him across the table, making him choke a second time around. 

“You know,” she says, taking another bite, “Aahv bin eetin ‘ere fuh ten years. Mah sishuh brought me ‘ere often.”

Karna gives her a disgusted look, he looks mournfully at his food. 

“Oh, just eat it,” she says, leaning across the table and stuffing a spoonful of soggy idli in his mouth.

“Draup-!” He glares at her, wiping the sambar off his chin. 

Draupadi cackles loudly. “You said my name! YES, YOU SAID MY NAME!”

Karna’s eyes widen. The sound he makes is very close to a whimper, but his mouth is ballooned with sour sambhar. He swallows loudly. “I -- I didn’t --”

“Yeah, you _did_. Wait, hold on, let me write it down in my phone.” She pulls out said phone from the jacket pocket. “Calendar, where are you…? Ah. Yes. ‘Karna called me by half my name today’. There. Now I’ll never forget.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, gargling the sourness out of his mouth. 

“Oh, you love me,” she says flippantly and freezes. Karna can hardly bring himself to move. 

“What?”

She regains her composure quicker than he does. “Everybody loves me,” she says, tossing her hair back. 

Karna turns away and looks at his car. “We should go. Sir will call again soon asking where we are.”

Something flashes across Draupadi’s face and the awkward moment is gone. “Sure. I’m almost done.” 

They pay for the food. Draupadi signs something to the man, hugs the woman and saunters to the car. “I’m driving.” She holds her hand out for the keys.

“No.” Karna clutches tightly onto the keys. It’s his car, dammit. “I will.”

Draupadi just stands there. “I’ll only get in on the driver’s side,” she says resolutely. “You’ll have to carry me to the other side if you want to drive.” 

Karna blanches at the thought. Draupadi victoriously takes the keys from him, careful not to make contact with his skin, and jangles them as she opens the car door. 

Their drive to Drupad’s house is relatively quiet, and Kishore Kumar’s voice weaves itself in the thoughtful silence between them. 

_Khwaab ho tum ya koi haqeeqat_  
 _Kaun ho tum batlao_  
 _Der se kitni door khadi ho_  
 _Aur kareeb aa jao_  
 _Subah pe jis tarah_  
 _Shaam ka ho gumaah..._

____

=||=||=

Karna stumbles up to his flat, tiredly pushing the door open. He heads straight to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and toast. The idli was not sufficient breakfast.

Duryodhan is just walking out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, shaking the water out of his wet hair. He sees Karna leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes closed, apparently in deep thought.

“Did you just get back?” he asks, plunging his hand into a pile of clothes taking up half the space on the dining table. Karna opens his eyes and looks wearily at his flatmate. He has no idea why he continues to live with such a slob. 

“Yes.”

Duryodhan snorts. “Don’t tell me you were with the princess the whole time.”

“Where else?” Karna sighs, gulping the rest of the coffee in one go. He points to a chair. “Your jacket.”

“I thought maybe you’d discovered life.” It’s Karna’s turn to snort incredulously. “You need a break,” Duryodhan says, while picking up his jacket and unfolding it. “Why does this smell like lotuses?” he asks, quizzically.

Karna blushes as he turns away for a refill. “How would I know…?” he says in a small voice.

Duryodhan shrugs and walks back in with his jacket, leaving Karna to his breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs in the fic:
> 
> [Aja Sanam Madhur Chandani Mein Hum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIkFW78x6UA)  
>    
> [Ajeeb Dastaan Hai Yeh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJLdL5_QkVo)
> 
> [Hum Premi Prem Karne Waale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBtC4RLToGM)
> 
> [Kati Patang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB_4xapDKlk)
> 
>   [Khwaab Ho Tum Ya Koi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fApbFtkCjw)
> 
>  
> 
> Find us on Tumblr:
> 
> [sairandhri](http://nirantar.tumblr.com/) || [phandomoftheowl](http://phandomoftheowl.tumblr.com/)


End file.
